Thirtyfootwell's Blog

How the Atari 2600 Taught us the Disappointment Factor

thirtyfootwell — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 17:38:28 +0000

A simple formula underlies every sight-unseen purchasing decision, whether it’s a box of cereal or a 1930s Rockola jukebox on ebay. It goes like this: the amount of Joy aroused by the photo – the amount of Joy aroused by the actual object= actual amount of Joy remaining to the buyer. So, AdJoy-RealJoy=Disappointment Factor. When the Disappointment Factor is a negative number, bad feedback flies and a general gnashing of teeth ensues. I was reminded of this equation when I came across five mint-in-box Atari games from 1982 at the thrift store. And I remembered where I first learned this important life lesson about advertising…from the surreal, startling difference between 80s videogame box illustrations and the actual 8-bit games that we played.

When a Disappointment Factor is that high, it may be felt as a Confusion Factor instead. I don’t remember feeling disappointed, so much, just a little, “Oh, so that’s how things are, ok.” The disconnect between the illustration and the reality is so extreme that no rational person would believe that the advertiser meant for him to believe that the two pictures had a representational relationship. It’s not as if they drew a spiffier version of the actual game–no, that would be deceptive. They presented us with an impossible (at that time) version of the game, and basically said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if you were playing this game?” I also really want to meet the person who wrote the text for that blurb on the box. That task required a prescription strength imagination.

Everything but the wookie.

Space War not only used the dramatic painting switcheroo, but also cashed in on a slightly more popular franchise. Also, the three heroes on the cover appear to be tracking a muffin on their computer monitor. Here’s the glowing prose from the Atari catalog that came in each box.

If by universe you mean "green rectangle," then I agree.

Then there’s one other category of game, the kind of game that doesn’t easily provoke epic illustrations. Checkers: a board game that even in real life is populated entirely by geometric shapes. What will the brave artists of Atari do?

What the hell is "give away checkers?"

They took the royalty angle, which frankly was pretty much the only angle to be had. So they populated the Video Checkers universe with a mead swilling, leering family of dissipate royals. True the mead swilling occurs out of frame, but I think we can assume from the ruddy, swollen faces and the leering that it is occurring at heroic levels. Also, the fact that they’re playing checkers with their imaginary friend, because everyone is sitting on one side of the checkerboard. Oh wait, am I supposed to feel like I’m playing checkers with them? Ooooh.

Disappointment Factor is variable over time, and finding these for a buck a piece pretty much made my day now that I don’t actually have to play these stupid games. Each box came with a catalog filled with more illustrations and screen shots, and it’s a treasure trove of things taken to their illogical confusion. There are so many I couldn’t even decide which to include. Once again, I wish I had a time machine mailbox where I could order things from old catalogs and they would actually show up.

Tasty Treats of the 1890s

thirtyfootwell — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 05:21:38 +0000

You don't want to know what's in mock turtle soup.

Interactive history at its best. From the delightful to the disgusting, recipes from other times and places really let you experience a vanished slice of daily life. In the instance of this 1890 book published in New England, sometimes it looks very familiar. Chicken salad is still chicken, mayo and celery. Pound cake is still mostly butter. Mock turtle soup is mostly calf’s head and pork back fat…ok, well, there are differences.

The introduction to The Compedium of Cookery sounds surprisingly modern, even admonishing us to “eat to live,” not “live to eat.” A closer inspection however reveals a world we’ve left behind…of a world before microwaves, penicillin, and professional funeral homes. Apparently. Well, let’s start at the beginning.

1,000 ways of getting rich, or more likely burning, poisoning or cutting yourself.

The Compendium is not just one useful volume, but actually TWO, split into the food recipes and “The Book of Knowledge.” The BOK is subtitled “1,000 ways of getting rich.” To their credit, the first chapter of the BOK is entitled “Secrets of the Liquor Trade.” Less intoxicating professions follow…including the “new method of embalming.” This method “supersedes the old and revolting mode, and has been introduced into the great anatomical schools of Paris. Risky experiments in metallurgy and pest control are also included. For killing rats in the hayrick, a handy mixture of molten lard, phosphorus, and sulphur. It glows in the dark, hurray! Because I want my barn full of dead, glowing rats.

I think I'd take my chances with the rabies.

What would a cookbook be without home remedies? Well, by today’s standards, normal. But in 1890 you had to be ready for mad dogs and Englishmen, whatever the case may have been. And if it was mad dogs, well, get out the hot poker.

I’m not sure what a “caked breast” is, but I’m also pretty sure that a muskrat isn’t going to help.

All that said, there are some pretty good cake recipes in here. Sadly, there are no temperatures and few cooking times given…nobody had oven thermometers and everyone assumed that the women doing the cooking knew the basics and didn’t need the step-by-step. My cookbooks appear to be written for children in comparison. I can’t cut a fowl into joints, and I wouldn’t know a preserving kettle from a chamber pot. There’s a whole chapter on how to preserve produce for the winter…a reminder that seasons used to actually affect our eating habits.

You know what else used to affect our eating habits? A lot? Eels.

Sewing Box Accidental Time Capsule

thirtyfootwell — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 05:28:51 +0000

An expert assures me that this is a '56 Nash Rambler. But I have to say it looks more like a '55 to me.

It’s a box, or a drawer, or a trunk. We all have a place that we put things we deem too important to throw away, but too useless to leave in the open. These choices make perfect sense at the time, and we could explain why we kept the eraser shaped like a piece of sushi or that invitation to a party long past. Soon the meaningful things jostle with the mundane things, the paperclips, stamps, the pennies. And the meaningful and mundane things get tangled and stuck to the inexplicable things.

Passing by my favorite weekly garage sale (many of them are like semi-permanent thrift stores in our neighborhood) I noticed this box. I had a feeling it was good just from the unicorn stamped on the faux leather covering.

Even if it had been empty, this was well worth two bucks.

An unusual box–something I can use anyway. And inside, the odds and ends of some strange woman’s life from the mid 1950s through the 70s.

And my first thought was, Wow, what a freaky lady. Among the frugally saved bits of yarn, seam liners wrapped around a 1955 pocket calendar and the invitation to a shoe sale, there was a LAPD sponsored pamphlet called “Rape! Lady Beware” and a wedge of plastic cheese. A picture of a young boy with this inscription, “From a smart brother, to a dumb sister.” And my favorite, a beautiful slide of what I take to be the woman and her husband in a red and white ’56 Rambler. Big fins, red and white. In the background you can see a classic example of 50s So Cal architecture, flat, square and modern.

Spools, strawberry, Necchi book, buttons, thread box, bobbins, fake fall leaves

It all seemed so random at first, but when I think about how odd the contents of some of my own drawers are, I started trying to assemble a mental portrait of this person. Let’s see, Necchi sewing machine, manual and bobbins.Why not a Singer? She was thrifty—the smallest ends of thread were carefully wrapped up on their original cards. A Catholic…there’s a St.Christopher medal. There’s an invitation to a shoe sale at May Co. downtown at Broadway and 8th…back when there were still big department stores downtown, instead of out in the suburban malls. Her brother’s picture, with the funny inscription in terrible handwriting. I googled the address on the shoe invitation and zoomed in to see the street view. A nondescript bungalow in Redwood city…not the midcentury house from the slide, and no sign of the badass finned car. Not sure what to make of the scary rape brochure, or the plastic cheese and matching mouse. It’s just funny how much I do know just from this random set of objects that she set aside, for neither use or disposal. I know where she lived, where she shopped, even her name. I have a sense of what she privately felt was important to keep, things she never thought about anyone seeing. When I think about someone going through the analogous box from my life, it feels very wrong, invasive.

I love the little needle folio...it features a woman holding her needle triumphantly aloft, the envy of her girlfriends.

So, in repayment, for letting me spy on her, I’ll do my best to use the useful things. The needles and bobbins are in great condition, and I’m sure someone out there is looking for that Necchi manual. I hope she enjoyed herself in the Nash, and that she managed to stay safe with the help of the rather lurid LAPD instructions.

Spools, LAPD Booklet, Pens, Shoe Sale Invite, Strawberry Pincushion, Cheese

I leave you with a commercial for the ’55 Rambler; perhaps it was this very ad that inspired the couple to purchase theirs the very next year.

Lamb From Hell Reader Contest

thirtyfootwell — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 02:55:21 +0000

Look deep into his eyes. His terrible eyes!

Box o Nightmares, anyone?

The challenge, should you accept it, is to create a piece of art, video, LoL Lamb, short story, comic, based on Hell Lamb and Pals. The contest starts tonight 10pm West Coast Awesome, and will cease on Friday at 5pm. Ok, you get an extension! The contest is running now till 5pm on July 31st. So you have the whole weekend and another week to make art out of scary sheep. Below are plenty of images for you to play with. Submit your entries as a comment so that we can all enjoy them. The winner will receive much applause and a FREE ITEM from my Etsy store Spiderbot! Whooo. Yup, you get to pick, anything 25$ or less! All participants will receive some Spiderbot shrinky dink art. So, get crackin!

Hell Lamb Works Hard, Plays Hard

Will he jump?

Cute-ish?

Faceless insects are a classic childhood fave.

My god, it's full of stars!

He was actually being sold with toys, and I’m glad I took him out of circulation before some poor kid had to go to sleep each night with this thing staring at her from the dresser. Good luck with the contest!

Just Ask Alice

thirtyfootwell — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:51:34 +0000

"I'm a Fawn!" it cried out in a voice of delight. "And dear me! You're a human child."

I finally finished these Alice pieces I’ve been laboring over.

“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft, sweet voice it had!

“I wish I knew!” thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, “Nothing just now.”– Through The Looking Glass, Lewis Carrol

The Dodo solemnly presented the thimble-

A beautifully illustrated copy of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass sent me off on my current Alice trip. It has several color plates of the classic illustrations by John Tenniel, which I find completely riveting. There’s just something about them….for instance, Alice’s very adult face. Such seriousness, intensity.

She’s not really the Alice of the story, she’s the Alice that the adult reader becomes as they travel that landscape. He does this for each of Carroll’s creations, teasing out the essence of them until we believe that that’s how we’d imagined them all along. The officious, ludicrous Rabbit. The haughty, horsefaced Queen. The tragic, silly Mock Turtle. And Humpty Dumpty, the quintessential politician, who has the King’s warm assurances that he will be put back together again. At all costs.

“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in a scornful tone, “It means just what I choose it to mean–neither more nor less.”

In this way, Humpty Dumpty prepares Alice for his learned lecture on the meaning of the poem “Jabberwocky“. For instance, we learn that “slithy” is a portmanteau meaning “lithe” and “slithy,” and that toves are notably slithy. Toves? They are “something like badgers, and something like corkscrews.” You can see the motley cast of characters that populate the wabe (area around a sundial) in Tenniel’s illustration below. This picture inspired a Jabberwocky themed collar.

Inhabitants of the Jabberwocky Universe

And they gyre and gimbol in the wabe!

But perhaps the most eerie and beautiful images of Alice ever produced come from Czech stop motion master Jan Svankmajer. His work incorporates bones, meat, furniture, insects, toys–real nightmare fuel, but stunning nonetheless. And his Alice is, for me, the definitive Alice. He ignores the details of the narrative in favor of exploring its imagery in the dark and sooty caverns of the collective mind. The claustrophobic, illogical spaces are just about the closest thing to dreams on film that I have ever seen. I’ve put the “bone creatures” scene here, but please check out the whole film. Trust me, it’s worth it just for the scene with the sock caterpillars.

My handmade Alice creations are available from my etsy store, along with my other goodies.

Graphic Design 101

thirtyfootwell — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 22:07:24 +0000

Rorshach Test: Is it going in or coming out?

Our friends just returned from the Czech Republic with some, er, souvenirs. This is supposedly some kind of pate. OK, aspiring students of graphic design: avoid sausage consumption in your choice of brand mascots, even when actual sausage may be involved. In this case, it’s not, which makes this logo even better.

The Stink God In Our Midst

thirtyfootwell — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 23:06:39 +0000

We may have to burn the bathtub now. I’m not even sure how to do that.

Upon closer examination, it wasn't a little dog after all but a hairy clump of dirt with a personality disorder.

Australia vs. New Zealand on Totally Frivolous Criteria

thirtyfootwell — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 22:10:26 +0000

As a household of travelers, we have accumulated a fat jar of coins from around the globe. You can’t change them back to US dollars, and you don’t use them when you’re actually there because it’s embarrassing to hold up the line while you try to figure out the reasoning behind the enormous 5 cent coin and the tiny, tiny dollar ones. So, because it’s raining and my true love has parked himself in the studio, preventing me from accomplishing actual work, I am able to answer the really big questions. Such as, “Who has cooler money, Australia or New Zealand?” Now, I’m leaving the bills out of this, it’s an all-coin bout going up to a dollar. I know they have two dollar coins, but that’s wrong and unnatural. It’s all tails up because the heads are all versions of Elizabeth II. Let’s start with the five cent pieces, shall we. Nations, start your mints.

Extinct Coins and Living Fossils...Australia & the Echidna, and NZ & the Tuatara

Top coin is AU, bottom is NZ. Oddly enough, it seems that NZ did away with their 5-cent coin in 2006, shortly after my first trip there. So this is a rare coin now, hah! It features the tuatara, an endangered reptile that has been stuck in his ways since the Mesozoic. Pretty cool, NZ, pretty cool. But look at Australia–awwww, it’s an echidna, and he’s rolled into a ball. And while primitive reptiles are cool, a monotreme that lays eggs, has a four-headed penis and electrolocator abilities…sorry NZ. This one goes to the Aussies.

Lyre Bird Plumes vs. Maori Carving

10 cents: Top coin is Aussie, bottom Kiwi.

This is a tough one. The lyre bird is one of my favorite animals, but the Maori carving is also cool. I’m giving it to NZ on this one, since otherwise it’s just Australia falling back on their endless supply of fascinating wildlife. It’s 1-1, folks.

But lyre birds are kick ass, observe:

flightless...things...

20 Cents: Top coin AU, bottom NZ. This one goes to Australia. You can’t really tell from the pic, but the AU coin is a really artsy rendition of a swimming platypus. Spoiler Alert: the kiwi loses out because NZ gives up and uses it again on the dollar coin.

For some reason I didn’t have any NZ 5o cent pieces, so here’s the wikipedia image:

Kangaroo Coat-of-Arms

So, stick with me, folks, I know this is a snooze so let me just quickly point out how bizarre the Australian kangaroo-emu coalition 50 cent piece is. It appears they are running the country all by themselves. That done, I give it to Australia. Sorry, Endeavor.

And on the $1 coin, NZ defaults to the kiwi. Again. I know it’s not (mostly, anymore) their fault that there aren’t more sexy animals on their island. Oh, whoops, and Australia went for the kangaroo again. Come on, why not a wombat coin? I say you both lose on that one. I’m not even putting those pictures up.

So you're saying I don't get my own coin? Stupid kangaroos.

So on the completely arbitrary and frivolous grounds of who has cooler coins up to $1, Australia wins. And I was cheering for you, NZ, because I love your ferns and your freaky little birds. And your manuca honey. But hot damn, the Aussies know how to exploit their natural resources to great numismatic effect. And now I promise I will go so something worthwhile with my time. G’day.

Worlds of What If

thirtyfootwell — Fri, 29 May 2009 01:12:22 +0000

First of all, let me say that I am a geek of many colors and so any nerd mocking (nocking?) that I do is in many ways self-mocking. I love science fiction, and had I been alive at the time I would have been a big fan of:

Tales of Interest!

I was looking through my old sci-fi mag pile for pictures of robots to use in some upcoming jewelry pieces when I noticed this headline, “An Elf on the Starship Enterprise–a poem and portrait.” It was at this point that part of me wanted to burn this issue of Amazing Stories without even reading the poem because I knew that it would be so terrible that I would lose what little faith in human dignity still remains to me. Another part of me wanted to not only read it, but to make all of you read it, too. You can see which part one. Sadomasochism 1, Dignity 0.

Ok, let’s ease into this, portrait first.

Ok, not too terrifying yet. At least he's wearing a shirt.

At this point, you can still turn back. Now, keep in mind this is totally G-rated and nothing like the graphic fan fiction the folks at Topless Robot gleefully subject us to every week. This is more, well, psychologically disturbing.

Well, there it is. Who the hell was this Dorothy Jones? Why, why did she do this to us? Why are there question marks used as a border around her poem?? Was that some typesetter’s cry for help? I know there’s tons of this stuff out there but I do a pretty good job of avoiding it most of the time. Like manatees mating, you know it happens but you don’t want to see pictures.

Gettin’ It On, 1870′s Style

thirtyfootwell — Tue, 19 May 2009 16:17:27 +0000

Would you ask this man for love advice?

Portrait of Fowler from 1875 Marriage Manual, 1907 edition

At the turn of the last century he was pretty much the only game in town. At least, if you wanted to know more than, well, that it was probably wrong.

I found this book in a used book store in a strip mall in suburban Houston. I was desperately trying to kill time until I wasn’t in Houston anymore, and had surmised that the book store was the most interesting thing for miles. And there it was, 102 years old (this edition…the first came out in 1875) and still considered shocking in some parts of the world. Probably some parts of Houston, honestly.

Now, that’s not to say that Fowler was a hero or a sexual pioneer. He was kind of a nutjob, or at least comes off that way in his wikipedia bio. Phrenology, octagon houses (yes, he was a sort of proto-Bucky Fuller), and a smidgen of good ole fashioned eugenics. However, despite festooning his arguments with biblical claptrap and exhortations about improving our children’s stock, the basic premise of much of the book is that love and good sex are actually healthy. That a natural, bodily function isn’t necessarily evil, especially since it’s the only way to make more people. Well, at the time it was.

I am fascinated enough with this book that I promise to explore it section by section in later articles, and bring in some more modern research for comparison. Until then, enjoy these teasers. One thing I can say for Fowler is that for every insensitive thing he says about womankind, he’s got one for mankind, too. He has very clear ideas about what constitutes Attractiveness.

Fowler had three wives, so we're assuming he researched this carefully.

Honestly, who could choose?

And of course, to avoid the appearance that is book is somehow pornographic (please, I dare you to be turned on by this book in any way) he really emphasizes how children are really the best accessory.

How to assess potential mothers by their chins

And I quote, “a wife who had too little gender and passion to become a mother.” Expensive fertility treatments, pshaw! You just need a little more Gender and Passion.

More Fowler to come in the future. I leave you with this print, which is one of many romantic illustrations studded throughout the book for no apparent reason except to alleviate boredom.

Oh, Charles, please read the marriage manual! I have too little Gender and Passion!